


soup

by Rambling_Museums



Series: Doctor Who oneshots [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (she's probably bi in this but its not gone into), Autistic Doctor (Doctor Who), Gen, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Doctor (Doctor Who), Queer Themes, Queer Yasmin, Safe Spaces, and the way they soak up unsafe thigns, based heavily on my first time in the LGBT club room in my first University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 10:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22394734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rambling_Museums/pseuds/Rambling_Museums
Summary: The Doctor is still cooking. How are they supposed to know what they'll end up like when the egg timer goes off?“Cool name, Doctor, I’m Sam, that’s Chase, that’s Tami, and over there is Jo. No pressure but, do you want to tell us a bit about yourself?” Sam asked in a soft voice that warred with the loud symbol crash of her mind. It was bright and angry and happy and terrified all at once. The Doctor felt/heard the young woman’s terror and curiosity about them.Would this Doctor person be like a bomb going off in Sam’s little world? Would this Doctor person destroy all the work Sam put into making this a Safe Space?Not on purpose. No matter the chaos and noise and hurt in this room the Doctor rarely set out to destroy things.“Still trying to figure that out, Sam.”
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan
Series: Doctor Who oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626529
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	soup

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a happy experience and might be triggering if you have gender dysphoria.

The Doctor and Yaz were on earth. In Sheffield. At the university. In a small room. Full of people that the Doctor didn’t know and they were pretty sure that Yaz didn’t know them either. The room was loud and not in a good way. Not like happy engines or shouting children and families or even like busy London estates full of life and energy and hope. Instead the loudest noise came from an unhappy fan trying its hardest to keep the room at a regular temperature but the constant chatter and people coming in and out made that nearly impossible.

The Doctor sat in black magician’s pants, rolled up at the cuff; and a dusty, dirty, torn French cuff shirt that they used to love but now seemed like so much scrap material. They still liked the vest. It was probably the best part of the whole outfit. Its a shame it didn’t fit the way they remembered it fitting a few hours ago. Oh Yaz was talking. They should pay attention to Yaz. Yaz was a friend and Important. Not the First Face this Face saw but that friend died.

“Anyway, um, this is the Doctor, she’s a friend of mine.” Yaz explained to all the busy people with Loud Thoughts and bright colour, “we met two nights ago but it feels longer.”

“I think I’ve known you my whole life Yaz.” The Doctor jokes. But not really a joke because this Face had known Yaz their whole life – existence.

Yaz grinned back with only a touch of human confusion. Probably confusion. Hard to tell really, “Anyway, the Doc is sticking around for a friend’s funeral and I though it might be nice to hang out here.” She gestured at the room. The loud, unhappy room filled with the noise of a struggling fan and too many thoughts and sadness and rainbow banners proclaiming itself as a Safe Space. It didn’t feel very safe. But it was trying. They couldn’t fault it for trying.

“Right, that’s me.” The Doctor nodded.

“Cool name, Doctor, I’m Sam, that’s Chase, that’s Tami, and over there is Jo. No pressure but, do you want to tell us a bit about yourself?” Sam asked in a soft voice that warred with the loud symbol crash of her mind. It was bright and angry and happy and terrified all at once. The Doctor felt/heard the young woman’s terror and curiosity about them. _Would this Doctor person be like a bomb going off in Sam’s little world? Would this Doctor person destroy all the work Sam put into making this a Safe Space_? Not on purpose. No matter the chaos and noise and hurt in this room the Doctor rarely set out to destroy things.

“Still trying to figure that out, Sam.” The Doctor said brightly. Thrusting happy tones through their to hide their own terror _would this new Face destroy the Doctor? Would this new Face be like a bomb going off in the Doctor’s little world_?

“Oh I get that,” Jo said with a grin of their own. Definitely ‘they’. They were wearing a pin proclaiming it. Maybe the Doctor should find one somewhere. Best not. Who knows how they will feel after they figure out who they are now, after all. Good to see some humans recognizing that gender is less black and white though.

“Is Doctor your name and a title, or just a name?” asked one (Chase? Maybe. Too many names, the Doctor was basically still soup and names are very hard things for soup to remember).

“That is a very smart question.” The Doctor lit up. Nobody ever asked them questions like that. They weren’t sure how to answer it though. They were the original. The one from whom all other Doctors got their titles (or names in some societies) (They were still a bit upset that Alfie was not named after them) (only a little though). So they didn’t answer. What was the point of being 3000+ year old soup if you couldn’t be mysterious some of the time?

Instead the Doctor mostly listened. It was mostly all very domestic – whose partner did what, who hooked up or broke up or did some mildly embarrassing thing. Except when it wasn’t.

“Are you going to join us for Pride Nights, Yaz?”

“Maybe, if I can get the night off.”

“I still can’t believe you of all people went with the police instead of doing a proper job.”

“Shut up! And what makes a job proper?”

The Doctor let the conversation flow over and around (but not through, never through, at least not while they were soup) them. They focused on the humans’ timelines instead of the conversation. This Face was very good at the fiddly bits of Time Lord senses in a way they hadn’t been since the War. Possibly because the Time Vortex once again sang out with the psychic voices of other Time Lords. Possibly due to the early psychic connection to Tim Shaw’s gathering coil. Possibly for no reason at all.

Hard to say.

No matter the reason – or lack there of – they were able to see/touch/feel/taste the potentials in time in the glorious way they could as a much younger man again. It tickled/itched/brushed at their mind like a scratchy wool jumper or a feather boa or like a cough at the back of their throat.

All of these young people, except for Yaz, had unremarkable lives ahead of them. Three were on the track to finishing uni, one was not. That one might not make it out of 2020 but maybe they would. With a few kind words. They smiled at that one. It would have to be enough for now. The Doctor didn’t know what kind words would work. They had never known what words would help or hinder. Not even during their time after being soup. Or cooking. Settling. Learning about themself.

They didn’t look too closely at Yaz’s timeline. Too complicated. A brief glance would be enough to alter it. After all, there was still a slight chance that Yaz and Ryan and Graham maybe too (but not Grace. Too late for Grace) would be willing to travel with them. Selfish Doctor. Wanting their new friends to give up the safety of earth just to keep them company. Shouldn’t even offer it.

“I ordered this new binder today,” Jo’s voice distracted the Doctor and they lost their grip on an interesting twist in Tami’s future – potential future – where it circled back and connected with Yaz They should have stopped looking/feeling/tasting as soon as they realized it was Yaz).

“Is it from the shop with all those cool patterns?” Chase asked.

“Yeah! This one is pretty plain – just some pinstripes – but I fell in love with it.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t bind, Jo,” Yaz complained, “do you know how many people get hurt by them?” The Doctor made a questioning sound.

“Its not that bad! You just have to be smart about it.” Jo matched Yaz’s tone before explaining to the Doctor, “It’s like a shirt or a sport bra but better. See I have a lot of chest dysphoria and I can’t exactly afford a breast reduction right now,” they gestured around as if to say _I’m a student, I can’t even afford proper food let alone surgery_ , “so the binder helps.”

The Doctor nodded as if they understood and let the idea simmer away in their internal soup for a moment. Their chest was different now. Very different. They had never had a Face with this type of chest before. It was rather the most detestable part of this Face so far (other than, of course, this Face being one of their Faces, that too was pretty terrible).

Would a pretty pinstripe binder help them?

“Of course you have to be careful – no running or swimming or laughing too hard when you’re wearing one because they make it harder to breath.” Jo continued oblivious to the Doctor’s thoughts. Jo laughed with a bitter edge, “I used to like footie. Maybe I will again someday after I get the surgery.”

Ah. A pretty pinstripe binder would not work for the Doctor. They ran far too much. But maybe....

Time Lords do have a respiratory bypass system. Not perfect (but what ever is?). Might work.

Not yet. Still soup. For all the Doctor knew putting a binder on before they finished cooking would just make their chest worse. If they could regrow a hand while the tenth (eleventh) Face was cooking, what would happen if they got rid of their breasts now.

And who knows. When they were done cooking, they might actually be okay with the Face. And all the bits that come with it.

The Doctor rubbed at their eyes, “Yaz,” they cut across something Tami said, “this has been lovely,” The Doctor lied (rule one), “But I think I should get back to Graham and Ryan. You stay here. How hard can it be to work out the buses in Sheffield? I managed in London without issues for hundreds of years.” They made a dash for the door before anyone else could stop them. The halls weren’t nearly as loud as the Safe Space. Not as sad or angry or hurt or trying so hard to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based very heavily on my first time in a designated queer space at my university. There were so many loud silences in that space. So much politicing. So much policing of experiences and expressions. I hated it there. But its where the Queers went, right? And as a Queer, I thought I went there too. 
> 
> For anyone who is struggling to find somewhere to fit in. I'd love to say it gets easier but I have yet to find a place for me. The dance club down the hall was much better though.


End file.
